Dehr mein naqsh-e-wafa wajah-e-tasalli na hua

For faith to bring the world a remedy, it was not to be. For that word to mean itself with honesty, it was not to be.

Your new beard’s emerald could not rule with tyranny Your hair’s dark, rebel serpent; it was not to be.

I hoped that death would end my loyal misery, But she, the tyrant, would not even agree; it was not to be.

My heart’s a lane for thoughts of wine and revelry, But my soul on the path to piety—it was not to be.

I’m glad you make no vows, content in my liberty, For my ear to be a slave to false hope’s plea—it was not to be.

To whom can I complain of fate’s dark mockery? I even wished that I might die; it was not to be.

One stir of her lips, and Ghalib died in agony; A match for Jesus’ healing breath—it was not to be.

I could not capture her face’s wondrous mystery; The mirror-page, a parrot’s rhapsody—it was not to be.

Behold God’s mercy, vast enough to set me free— A sinner grateful for his sins? It was not to be.